


[rainbow emoji] [water emoji]

by yonderdarling



Series: Doctor/Missy Oneshots [9]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Abled writer writing disabled character, Blind Character, Cunnilingus, Episode: s10e06 Extremis, F/M, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Episode: s10e06 Extremis, Shower Sex, emojis, nothing happens and then there's a punchline really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 19:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10997517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonderdarling/pseuds/yonderdarling
Summary: Tumblr user cielamisseh: "The Doctor: look Bill something very bad’s coming and we’re gonna be very busy so we both better get some pussy tonight." Originally PWP that became PWP with feelings.





	[rainbow emoji] [water emoji]

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by cielamisseh's post, and the soaking wet Doctor in series 9, and led to my internet quest to discover the lesbian equivalent to the eggplant emoji. Which I did not find a definitive answer to. Spoilers for all of series 10.
> 
> Thanks to Chris for looking over this for me. Unbetaed, written while also writing an essay.

The Doctor sits cross-legged outside the Vault after he hangs up with Bill, and waits, rubbing his fingers against his thumbs, feeling the sensation. After about twenty minutes (twenty-three minutes, forty-seven seconds after he hung up), his phone vibrates in his jacket pocket. It takes his glasses a few seconds to convert the text to psychic waves that he can understand.

 

New message from BILL: We're going out for a drink????? Meeting her in ten???

New message from BILL: In ten?????????? 10?????? im walking to the bar now

New message from BILL: [rainbow emoji] [heart emoji] [rainbow emoji] [beer emoji]

The impression emojis make on his brain is an odd sensation to say the least.

New message from BILL: Thank you Doctor [heart emoji] [cactus emoji] [brown prayer hands]

 

The Doctor grins into the dark, leans back, lets his head clunk against the door. He takes a few minutes to message back, _Good luck have fun_ , composing the message in his head in English, which is translated to Gallifreyan, then back to English and sent to the phone via the sonic glasses, and sent.

He sits for another five minutes, feeling his hearts beating in his chest, the rasp of his shirt on his skin as he breathes slowly. Then, hands pressing back against the lock on the Vault door, he gets up, turns, and types in the code. Puts his key in the lock.

_Missy laughed about the blindness; cackled about Nardole saying she'd use it against him. She hasn't said anything since, but the last time the Doctor went into the Vault, the acoustics had changed. He'd paused at the entrance, brow furrowed, and clapped his hands once. A definite echo. He clapped again, more to fill the silence than anything else._

_"I picked up all the rugs," Missy's dry tone came out of the darkness. "They didn't work with the decor anyway. Too busy."_

_He shuffled a few steps forward, not even trying at confidence._

_"And I'm giving up footstools for a while," she said. "They just collect empty mugs, really. And those awful magazines you keep bringing."_

_"You do the crossword every time."_

_"Not since you brought the piano in," Missy said. "The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together."_

_"Missy - he didn't write that about doing the_ OK! _crossword and then bashing out Glinka concertos."_

_"You know Will would have been into it, though," Missy said, and suddenly she was in front of him, holding his wrists between her thumbs and forefingers. "Come on, I'll sit you down and we'll have some tea. Kettle's just boiled."_

The Vault doors, perfectly balanced, open, and he feels the cool air on his face. Takes his sunglasses off and steps inside, counting. One, over the lip of the Vault itself. Four forwards, and he can rest his hand on the cool, silky wood of the piano. He runs his hand along the lid, tilting his head to one side.

"Missy?" he says. No answer. He kicks his shoes off, leans down carefully and tucks them under the piano, beside one of the legs. "You awake?"

The Doctor follows the curve of the piano around into the centre of the first room of the Vault, listens again. Falling water, humming. Not the kitchen; the bathroom. Missy's in the shower. Six steps across to that door, and he knocks on the wood. It's light, something near enough to what humans think of as balsawood - all the doors in the Vault are made of it. It's light enough for him or Nardole to kick down, if need be. Need hasn't come yet.

"Now, who could that be?" Missy calls, over the running water.

"Take a wild guess," the Doctor says, pressing his face against the timber, feeling the grain under his cheek. "Can I come in?"

"I suppose," says Missy. "I'm very naked. Not that it matters to you."

He pushes the door open and feels the steam and hot air curling past him. There's a splash, and the sound of the shower door opening, rasping on its runner. The water patters down on the floor and tiles.

"Doctor, what is it?"

"Did you hear any of what I said to you, about half an hour ago?"

Silence. Wet fingertips suddenly press against the back of his hand. He gets the sense of soft pink and a spark of yellow-gold, lemon sherbet tickling his lips. A vague sense of uncomfortably high collars and the smell of aluminium in his nose. Missy trails a fingertip over his knuckles, leaving a trail of water in its wake. He feels it evaporating. 

"You're smiling pathetically, aren't you," he says, imagining her face. "You know, smiling like you feel sorry for me."

"Yes. I did hear you. I just didn't have anything to say, and it all gets muffled coming out of the Vault. What is - this thing, we need to be ready for? Old friends, or new ones?"

That's a coded question, and the Doctor twists his hand, catches her fingers with his own. They're wet, and very hot from the shower. He takes another step into the bathroom, closes the door behind himself, lifts Missy's damp palm to his mouth and kisses it.

"New ones, as far as I can tell. It's not the Time Lords."

"Hm," says Missy, stroking her wet thumb along his chin. The water keeps falling in the background. "Well, that's a bright side. Knowing one's enemy though does often tip the odds in our favour."

"I'll explain later," he says. "We have a couple of days."

"Well if we're in this together, we'll only need a couple of hours," says Missy evenly, and he can taste sherbet again, still smells aluminium. Hope but caution. "Gods damn, I sound like a frontier wife waiting out a drought." She pauses. "You're smiling. Do you know you're smiling?"

"I lost my eyesight, not the sensation in my face. Of course I know I'm smiling."

"I'm getting cold, Doctor. Let me finish up in here and then we'll talk," Missy says. "Don't go in the kitchen, alright? You literally set something on fire last time."

He pauses, Missy's fingertips still on his face. The Doctor leans forward, meaning to kiss her, gets her ear and wet hair in his face instead. Missy splutters, presses damp kisses along his cheek, giggling. He puts his hands on her slick shoulders and uses her as a guide to step into the shower, under the hot spray of water. Missy taps his shin with her foot and he moves to the right; he hears her closing the door. Water trickles down his face, soaking his clothes, down to his skin. Missy's lips are suddenly on his, slick and wet, her hands damp on his face. She kisses him softly, gently, warm and leaning against him.

The Doctor slips his arms around her waist, the skin soft and silky, water cascading down her sides. Missy tugs him across and presses against him, bringing him properly under the shower's spray. It trickles down his hair and collar as she kisses him again and again, and he kisses her back, moving down her neck and to her shoulders, across her collarbone, water trickling off his eyelashes and down his face and her skin. He tightens his hands on her hips as Missy runs her hands down his chest, holds them over his hearts.

Then one of her hands is on the nape of his neck, and she tilts his head so their foreheads are pressed together. She rests one hand on his shoulder, then takes it off quickly.

"Wet velvet. Yuck."

"You're not getting in," says the Doctor.

"I can't believe you wingmanned for your human," Missy says, after a moment, and he laughs. "Nice work."

"Well, you know. We're both going to be very busy. Must make time for these things." The Doctor leans across, catches her mouth. "Finally."

Missy hums as he kisses down her neck, and he feels the vibrations in her voice box, trailing her wet hands through his soaked hair. She hums an old Johnny Cash tune as he moves down her collarbone, down her breast, laving his tongue over her nipple. She makes a happy noise, and the Doctor rubs her other breast with his free hand, holding her hip with the other.

"Water's hot," he says.

"Sorry," Missy says, and her hand leaves his head. The tap squeaks and the water cools marginally. "Better?"

"Better, better," he mumbles, moving his hand between her legs. He draws his thumb over her clit, feels her let out a breath. He slides one finger along her soft folds, slips it inside her, finds her hotter than the water, slick already. "Good."

"Very good," Missy says. "To what do I owe this pleasure, hm?"

She nips at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, then rests her teeth there, a sharp, grounding weight against his muscles. The Doctor moves his thumb around her clit slowly, runs his nose along the wet shape of her skull. Missy trails her hands down to his waist, presses her thumbs into the hollow of his hips. She starts humming and it's a spooky tune, something minor and soft. They kiss, again and again, as the Doctor moves his fingers against her. Missy gasps against his mouth as he slips one finger inside her, curls it.

He drops to his knees, the wet weight of his coat and shirt dragging his shoulders down. The Doctor leans forward, presses his lips to the soft skin of her stomach, across to her hip. He blinks water out of his eyes, wipes his hair back off his forehead. Missy's hand comes back round to his nape, her nails pricking the skin on the back of his neck, tiny sparks of pain that stop him losing himself entirely.

The Doctor takes the hand he has on her hip, slides it down her wet thigh and rubs the back of her knee; presses until she's lifting that leg up, hooking it over his sodden shoulder. There's a faint thud as Missy leans against the shower wall - shetenses for a millisecond, hisses when her back touches the cold tiles. The Doctor leans forward, his nose brushing the silky skin of her inner thigh; he closes his eyes - habit - leans up and licks at her soft folds. Missy sighs, winds her fingers in his hair.

Missy hums, and he feels the vibration in her body. He laves his tongue along her cunt, tastes her, musky and salty. The Doctor grips one of her thighs, feels the muscle tensing, and presses his free hand to her sternum, feels her breathing speed up as he moves his tongue, squeezes her arse, the water still warm and cascading over both of them.

"That's good, that's good," says Missy. "Doctor - "

He hums, and Missy whimpers. The Doctor flattens his tongue, licks at her clit, Missy moving her hips against his mouth. She lets out a breathy moan and tugs at his hair. It feels like bright blue sparks on the edges of his eyes, an itchy want under his skin. He slips two fingers inside her, keeps licking her clit, enjoys the echoes of her moans around the bathroom, feels her chest heaving under his hand against her sternum. She's hot and wet and soft, and the Doctor sucks her clit into his mouth. Missy makes a high noise, yanks on his hair.

"Doctor - Doctor - "

His heavy, sodden clothes drag at him and he curls his fingers inside her, laves his tongue along her clit. Missy makes another high noise, needy and warm. He imagines, the red shape of her mouth, the sharp blue of her eyes, her hair, slick and black in the water's spray.

"Fuck," Missy says, pressing herself against his mouth. "Doctor, Doctor - " her leg on his shoulder starts to shake. "Fuck - "

A third finger. Missy makes another noise, her ankle digging into his back. He sucks at her clit again, Missy grinding down on his mouth.

"Doctor - " The taste of sherbet, and blue light behind his eyes. "Doctor - " Missy gasps, pulling at his hair, whining. She groans, long and loud, shaking against him. "Doctor - fuck - "

He reaches up and grabs her hips just in time, as Missy slips, catching herself on the slippery tile walls. Her breathing echoes in the small space, and the Doctor feels her chest moving, her ribs expanding and contracting.

The Doctor lets his head drop, and finds his forehead pressed against her soft thigh. Missy rubs the back of his neck, her fingers trembling.

"Okay?" he asks, and spits. He looks up, lets some water run into his mouth, swipes a hand over his lips. "Missy?"

"You just spat on my foot," says Missy, her voice hoarse.

The Doctor spits again, and Missy makes a grossed-out noise, laughs. She pats his face.

"You're a mess," Missy says, running her thumb along his lower lip. He smiles up at her. She leans down, puts her hands under his arms, and guides him up, slicking his hair off his forehead. "Better? Good. That was - you're beautiful," she says, and then her lips are on his again. She rests her hands on his hips. "And you're shaking."

"It's cold."

"Okay."

Missy turns the water off, and opens the door.

"Wait," she says. "You'll slip and break a hip."

He listens to her padding, feet damp, across the tiled floor and returning. He starts unbuttoning his shirt and soon feels Missy fiddling with his belt, his pants buttons. He struggles out of his soaked jacket, peels his clammy shirt off, drops both on the floor with a splat. Missy grabs his wrist, places his hand against the edge of the shower. There's a bar there, a handle for him to grip.

"Hold this," she says. "Right."

Missy pulls his trousers and pants down, and the Doctor kicks out of them, clutching the handle for balance.

"I'm blind, not senile," he says.

"Do your own socks," says Missy, and he hears her picking up his soaking clothes, tossing them back in the shower. Splat, splat, thwack. "Done?"

"Yes." The chill really begins to set in, making his skin prickle.

Missy puts a warm, rough towel on his head. He takes it and rubs himself down, Missy doing the same a foot away from him. At one point she towels off his hair, combs it roughly through her fingers. She takes his hand again.

"Come to bed with me," she says. "We'll sleep."

The Doctor usually protests. The TARDIS usually fusses. He clamps his jaw shut. Missy tugs on his hand and he follows her out of the bathroom, through the depths of the Vault.

"Pyjamas?" he asks.

"We'll be warm enough," says Missy vaguely, and he hears a door being opened. "The floor's clear, you can find your way?"

"Yes."

"I'm drying my hair," she says, and listens to her footsteps receding. "Back in a bit."

The Doctor reaches out, finds the wall and feeling very exposed, shuffles along in a straight line until his fingers brush the mirror hanging on the wall. Then, it's a sharp left, and three steps -

He cracks his shin against the wooden bedframe and swears. Two and a half steps. The Doctor crawls onto the mattress and finds the edge of the blankets, finds the centre of the pillows, settles in on right-hand side. A few rooms away, he can hear Missy running her hairdryer. The Doctor lies back and pulls the blankets up to his chest, Missy's scent and the smell of her linen surrounding him. He tips his head to the side, closes his eyes, and the next thing he knows, Missy is curled up beside him, her hair tickling his nose. Her breathing is slow and even, her body relaxed. The Doctor wonders if she's sleeping, reaches out tentatively with his mind -

"I'm awake," says Missy, and trails a cool finger down his nose. "You passed out pretty fast there."

The Doctor reaches out physically, finds his hand brushing her bare stomach. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her against him.

"You don't want me to return the favour?" Missy asks, half-sexy, half-joking.

He smiles, closing his eyes. "Not tonight."

Missy wriggles, soft skin and curves against him, and tucks her head under his jaw. "Do you see when you dream?"

"Mhmm."

"What do you see?"

"Everything," says the Doctor. "Though tonight I think I'll see you."

"I like that," says Missy. "I appreciate that. I hope so."

"What do you see?"

"I see what I want to see," Missy says. "You know, on a good night. You've been woken up on the bad ones."

The Doctor nods.

"I've done the same for you."

"What do you want to see?" asks the Doctor.

Missy smacks her lips, runs a hand down his side. "You know. Well, not you anymore. I've got you."

"I could be out of here in a jiffy."

"I'm sure you could," says Missy soothingly. The Doctor tips his head and kisses the top of her hair, breathing in the smell of the lavender hair tonic she uses. "No, no, usually it's. Outside. Which is odd, because I'm not usually an outsidey sort of person." She sighs, breath rushing against his skin. "I suppose we always want what we can't have."

"If that's a hint, I'm not taking it."

There's a loud buzzing noise; the Doctor and Missy both jump.

"What the hell was that?" she asks.

"Did you bring my phone in here?"

"Yeah, I rescued it from your jacket. Nice work on the waterproofing."

"Thanks."

Missy sits, the blankets rustling, cold air flowing into the bed over his chest. The mattress dips and she picks something up off the bedside table. A button clicks.

"Why do you have a code when you know I can break it?"

The Doctor rolls over, finds her hip and tucks his face into it, enjoying her soft skin. "It's the little things." 

Missy unlocks his phone. "New message from Bill," she says. "Shall I read it to you? It's in hieroglyphics. My god, is she literate?"

The Doctor chuckles."You _know_ what emojis are," he says, looping his arm around her thighs. "And yes, please."

Missy clicks her tongue. "Funny. It's just - a rainbow, and then a rainbow, then another rainbow. And some clapping hands." Another buzz. "Lots of tongues. Doctor, what the hell?"

The Doctor chuckles, rubbing her thigh. "Would you send back a grumpy face?"

"You do you, I suppose," says Missy, and there's the sound of clicking as she types. The mattress shifts and there's a clack as she puts the phone down on the table. "You do you." She lies down beside him, kisses him quickly.

"No, no," says the Doctor, against her lips. He rolls over on top of her, and Missy laughs in surprise. He kisses her mouth, moves down her jaw. "Changed my mind. I'm gonna do you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
